


Have A Little Faith (Septiplier)

by collaborational



Series: Of Flying and Fighting [1]
Category: Septiplier - Fandom, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 08:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5410670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collaborational/pseuds/collaborational
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark's an engineer that was recently hired at a privately-run chemical laboratory. All the waivers and shit he's signed have made him really suspicious about what's going on, but he and his roommate Jack shrug it off. It's nothing. Probably. All he needs to do is make sure everything stays in shape and nothing goes wrong.</p><p>Of course, something DOES go wrong, and the chemicals he's doused in are... not very average.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unintended

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark comes home after an accident. Jack isn't pleased.

"Holy SHIT, Mark! Wot th' fock happened to ya?!"

Mark pushed past his extremely concerned roommate and sank down heavily on the couch, clutching his shoulder. "Bad day at the lab is all," he muttered.

"Bad day my ass!" Jack exclaimed. "Ya look like ya got thrown into one'f th' machines yer paid ta build!"

"Well, I mean," the taller man mumbled, "That's not too far off from what happened."

"Tell me. Now."

"You know that shit is confidential, Jack! I could lose my job if-"

"Mark, for Christ's sake, what HAPPENED?"

He groaned, running a hand through his dark hair. "There was a malfunction, okay? Couple of pistons fired when they shouldn't have, some screws shot off, chemical spills, no big deal."

"No big-!" the Irishman spluttered, throwing his arms into the air. "It's a HUGE deal, Mark! Yer a MESS! Covered in bruises an' burns an' God knows wot th' fock else..."

"Look, they put me in the emergency chemical shower and sprayed me down." Mark was getting more than a little annoyed by Jack's overbearingness. He was like a mother hen the way he stressed over the older man's job. "I should be fine. Nothing serious happened."

"Don't give me that bullshit! I can see the stains on yer uniform. I can still smell that shit on yeh!"

"Jack. These guys are professionals. I'm fine. Really."

Jack grumbled angrily, crossing his arms.

"Are you gonna pout now, Jackaboy? Wah wah, who's a big baby?" Mark teased, grinning. The smaller man rolled his eyes.

"Come on. You're smiling. I see that smile, Jack."

"No I'm not."  


"Yes you are!"  


"I'm not!" the Irishman shot back, a grin breaking out over his face. Mark let out a whoop of victory.  


"Yes you aaaare!"

"Oh, ya cheatin' bastard! You did that on purpose!" Jack complained loudly.

"Look, I've got some paperwork to finish filling out. Whatever you're doing tonight, try to keep it down, okay?"

"No promises, Mark."

"Just my luck I got stuck with the loudest person on Earth as my roommate."

"You think I'M loud? Hah, I should take you to a pub in Ireland during football season."

"Let's not and say we did."

\---

Mark stayed up much longer than he'd planned to, staring outside over the LA cityscape. The lights and sounds were mesmerizing, and the high view from his and Jack's apartment made the sight all the more breathtaking.

Work came first, though, and he forced his eyes back to the paper. Complex, half-completed equations filled the worksheets he'd been given, with the task of designing a better heating unit for... Whatever the hell that chemical was.

The laboratory the engineer had been hired for was very secretive about their work, prompting Mark and Jack to make several jokes about wizardry or comic-book science. Perhaps they were concocting formulas to turn mice into men, or make babies breathe fire. Whatever it was, Mark was kept in the dark about it despite working there.

Despite being good at keeping Mark out of the loop about their scientific work, they had a HORRIBLE safety policy. He'd often start fixing something long before the scientists came to him about the problem, simply because the utter wrongness of it all bothered him so much.

Mark hadn't been prepared for that chemical heater to burst though. He just remembered hearing a loud squeak, a few pops and clanks, and then the sensation of boiling hot liquid slamming into his back.

The man shuddered. That had NOT been fun. The stuff had coated him and it was super fucking sticky. It had taken forever to wash the dark blue slime off, and despite reassuring Jack, he didn't quite believe it had all come off. Every part of his skin seemed to tingle slightly, and there was a throbbing in the back of his shoulder where a popped-out screw had nailed him.

The numbers and lines seemed to dance around the paper as Mark's mind wandered, and the warm California breeze drifting in from outside made him drowsy.

Maybe if he just closed his eyes for... One moment...

\---

He vaguely registered something wrapping around him, the sensation of movement, a faraway voice complaining about something. His neck didn't hurt anymore now. In fact, he was quite comfortable. Mark relaxed and let unconsciousness claim him once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first multi-chapter Septiplier fic. Oh, this is going to be difficult, what with sticking to a schedule and all... BUT I'M GONNA TRY.
> 
> Damn, this chapter is short. THERE WILL BE MORE LENGTHY ONES I SWEAR


	2. Hysteria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark has to take a sick day. Jack is suspicious.

Mark stirred. Oh dear God, he felt like he had a hangover. One could never forget that ache in the skull, even if they had sworn off drinking. His head was pounding. He rubbed at his temples, sitting up.

As soon as he shifted, he knew something was wrong. His balance was off, something was adding weight. What the hell?

Mark checked himself over, and froze when his fingers brushed across something that definitely did not belong in this bed with him.

**_"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!"_ **

Not thirty seconds later, Jack threw open the door. "Mark! Wot is it?! Wot's wrong?!"

Mark had the blankets yanked right up to his chin. "Uhh... Really.... REALLY bad headache," he stuttered. Well, it wasn't a complete lie. "Can't go to work today."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Mark Fischbach, takin' a sick day? Never thought I'd see THAT."

"Yeah yeah," he grumbled. "Just go to work or whatever, okay?"

"Uh, no. I know ya too well, Mark. If yer sick, yer SICK. I'm stayin' home ta take care'f ya."

Mark tensed. "Jack... Come on, I'm fine...!"

"My mind's made, Markimoo!" the Irishman sang almost tauntingly. He turned on his heel, ready to leave the room. The American breathed a sigh of relief.

Then Jack paused and turned back around. "...hold on a minute."

"Wh-what?" Mark asked, almost squeaking. "What is it?" He braced himself for the worst.

"Yer... It's yer HAIR," his roommate said, breaking out into a grin. "Holy shit, it's fockin' BLUE."

That was… not what he’d been expecting. Holy shit. "What?!" Mark cried indignantly. He could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. "That's bullshit. You...!"

Jack began to laugh. "No joke! A very pretty ocean blue! Maybe that chemical DOES do somethin'! Holy SHIT!"

Mark could only watch helplessly as Jack collapsed in peals of laughter. "I don't believe this. My hair. RUINED."

"Re... Relax, Mark!" Jack gasped, in between bursts of giggles. "It's not ruined! It's a nice colour on you!"

"You just say that because your hair's GREEN! Come on, this isn't funny!" the older man whined.

"Yes it is!" Jack cackled, laughing all the harder.

\---

Jack was looking more and more concerned each time he came into Mark's room with food or blankets or just to check up on him. The man had managed to get over to his desk, his comforter wrapped around him, and furiously scribbled numbers and figures, occasionally pausing to punch some numbers into a calculator.

"Hey," Jack called softly, earning a gasp and a small jerk from Mark. The Irishman smirked as the American glowered at him.

"Brought ya some coffee," Jack spoke, moving to push a mug into Mark's hands.

Since he had one clutching his blanket and the other one was holding his pencil, Mark didn't have use of them to take the coffee. Jack instead set it on the table.

"You ever think about takin' a break from work?" Jack inquired.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Mark shot back at him.

"No, not a sick day... Like an honest-ta-God day off. That's what you need. Just a day to get some sun, feel the wind in yer lovely blue hair..."

"Shut up about the hair already!"

"No!" the Irishman crowed. “It looks cool, seriously!” He ran a hand through it, prompting a slight shudder from Mark. “Makes ya more… colourful.”

“Incredible choice of words.”

“Shut th’ fock up! I’d like ta see you do better!”

“For your information, I am an EXCELLENT poet!” Mark turned in his chair. He was trying his best to look serious, but he couldn’t hold back the smile on his face.

Jack crossed his arms. “Alright. Let’s hear ya think o’ somethin’ better ta say about yer hair than wot I came up with.”

“Fine, I will!” the American snapped, wrapping his blanket around him a little tighter. “Ahem. Your hair is green, and my hair is blue. Your hair stinks, and so do you.”

The smaller man burst into laughter. “Ex-CUSE me?! For yer infermation, I took a shower taday! Have YOU? I don’t think so, ya smelly! I smell LOADS better than you do!”

“Well, Jackaboy, the scent you’re picking up is pure MANLINESS!” Mark told him confidently, flexing under his comforter. “Is it too overpowering for you? Are you not manly enough to handle it?”

“Ew!” Jack cackled. “You smell like BO! Seriously, ‘manly man,’ go take a shower! I’m sick’f yer stink already!”

Neither of them could say anything else now, they were both laughing too hard. Jack knelt down to try and catch his breath, and he ended up leaning against Mark for support. The larger man caught a whiff of Jack’s cologne, and the small body pressing up against him was surprisingly warm. He flushed bright red.

Jack gagged and pushed him away. “Ew, now I stink too! Come on, git in th’ shower, I don’t have all day!”

“Wha- you were serious?”

“Cleanliness is important! Ya haven’t brushed yer teeth or changed yer clothes or anythin’!” The Irishman gave him a small shove. “Go on, clean yerself!”

“Fine, I’m going, I’m going!” Mark chuckled, standing up. He paled, however, when he felt that shift again, that change in balance. He stumbled a bit.

Jack’s smile faded. “You okay, man? Need some help?”

“N-nah. Just a bit dizzy. I’ll… I’ll be fine.” He straightened and made his way across the room, towards the restroom.

He caught the sight of Jack staring confusedly at him right before he shut the door. Mark made sure it was locked before dropping the comforter to the floor.

Mark stared at his reflection in the mirror, examining the deformations hiding under his shirt. He moved his hand back to touch one of the clothed lumps, and it twitched.

“...Shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all I have saved from the quickwrite I made last night. Now it's actual writing and not just saved-up stuff from here on out.  
> SHIT THIS ONE IS ALSO SUPER SHORT  
> You guys will just have to deal with short chapters. Hopefully, that'll be balanced out by fast updates!


	3. Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is terrified when Mark seems to have hurt himself.

Jack's eyebrows raised as a loud crashing noise issued from the bathroom. “Everything okay in there, Mark?” he called.

“Yeah, everything’s fine- FUCK!” More crashing.

The Irishman was getting extremely worried. “D’ya need some help in there…?”

“NO! Don't come in!” Mark yelped. “I'm okay!”

He sounded… Scared. “Are ya sure?” Jack asked him.

“Yes! FUCK!” He cried out. There was another crash, louder than the others. It was followed by a strangled cry of pain.

The small man shot to his feet. “That's it, I'm coming in!” He started for Mark's bedroom.

“N-no! No no no, everything is fine!”

“Shut up! Open the door!” Jack demanded. He walked quickly through his roommate's bedroom and pounded on the door to the bathroom. “Mark!”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Jack! Sit down, I'm FINE!”

“No yer not!” He was panicking now. His heart was practically in his throat. “Mark Edward Fischbach, open this door, or I swear ta God I'm bustin’ it down!”

“Do you have any idea how much that'll cost to replace?!”

“Better a busted door than a busted you! OPEN UP!”

There was a series of thumps and crashes, then the lock clicked. Jack immediately threw open the door.

Mark was sitting in the middle of the floor, looking absolutely miserable. He was soaked from head to toe, blue hair plastered against his head. He had boxers on, and his shirt hung around his neck, like he'd never managed to get his arms through the sleeves. He was wrapped in the blanket he'd dragged into the bathroom with him.

“Jesus Christ, Jack,” he complained.

“Are ya hurt?” Jack knelt, trying to look him over. 

“No!” The older man shoved him away. “Seriously, I just lost my balance is all. I'm FINE, Jack.”

He frowned. “Mark-”

“Get out of here, would you? I'm practically naked.”

“Well, I mean, that's all th’ more reason ta stay, Markimoo. Yer gonna hafta do better’n that ta convince me ta leave-”

“Shut up!” Mark's face turned bright pink. “For God's sake, Jack!”

Jack burst into laughter, turning to leave the restroom. Mark was fine. Why wouldn't he be?

\---

After more crashing and swearing that Jack did his best to ignore, Mark stumbled out of the bathroom.

“Jack! I said get out!”

Jack was perched comfortably on the American's bed, sitting cross-legged. “I did. Now that yer out’f th’ bathroom, tell me wot’s wrong.”

Mark looked rather flustered. “Wh-what do you mean? Nothing's… Nothing's wrong,” he stammered. All he did was further prove Jack's theory that something had happened.

“Are yeh hidin’ somethin’ from me, Mark?” he asked his roommate. Mark shook his head, perhaps a little too quickly. 

The Irishman crossed his arms. “Th’ truth, Mark.”

“That IS the truth, alright? Nothing is wrong!” With the hand not clutching his blanket, Mark pulled Jack off the bed. He stumbled to his feet, surprised.

“M-Mark, what--”

With a quick push and a slam, Jack found himself staring at the living room of the apartment.

There was a sharp click behind him. Mark had locked him out.

The smaller man turned around to stare at Mark's bedroom door in disbelief. The roommate he knew would never do that to him. Something was DEFINITELY wrong.

Jack looked at his blue sweatshirt. It had water on it from where Mark had pushed him. He sighed. That would dry in due time.

Then he paused. Something else was on him. It was wet and limp, sticking to the fabric of his hoodie. He peeled it off.

The sogginess of the object made it impossible to discern what exactly it was. But it was long, thin, and greyish. Like a wet strip of paper.

Had this come off of Mark? Jack set the mystery object on the coffee table. What the hell was going on here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short and sweet chapter. I do hope I'm pulling off the "slow buildup" business well here.


	4. Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark has a decision to make.

As soon as he slammed the door, Mark immediately regretted everything. Almost by instinct, he turned the lock. He'd just locked Jack out- both figuratively and literally.

Mark sat down heavily on his bed. Taking a shower had allowed him to take a good look at exactly what had happened to him. Maybe his and Jack's poking fun at the chemical lab wasn't too far off after all.

He winced when he found himself thinking about his roommate, and what he'd just done to him. Why didn't he want to tell Jack? The guy was his best friend, he could trust him with this. Right?

The man buried his face in his hands. The blanket fell from around him, relieving some of the pressure on those… GROWTHS. Mark shuddered. This wasn't normal. He had to do something about it. 

But there was the freak factor to consider. What if word got out? What if the laboratory tried to hunt him down? What if he was locked up for experimentation? What if he was fired? What if he was killed?

It was too risky. Mark sighed. He couldn't make a decision. This was bad. It was… It was beyond bad. It was unreal. This sort of shit only happened in anime and bad fanfic.

Mark laid back on the bed, wincing when something crumpled under him. Those things certainly FELT real. They moved when he wanted them to, and they hurt when they bent uncomfortably, just like they were bending now. He tried to shuffle into a more comfortable position, but ended up giving up. Mark turned onto his stomach and pressed his face into his pillow.

A warm morning breeze drifted through the open window, making the man quiver. Maybe he could jump. He was a… A freak. An abomination. He didn't deserve to exist anymore.

Then he shook himself hard. What was WRONG with him? Good God!

Mark sat up, running a hand through his now-blue hair. It was probably a side effect of that chemical and what it had done to him.

Well… Jack had liked the blue hair. What made this any different?

Lots of people had blue hair, Mark reminded himself. Nobody had these things.

He was getting himself worked up. He had to make a decision. The American paced around the room, shooting glances to his bedroom door and to his open window.

He had four options.

One. He could get the blanket again and apologize to Jack, but not tell him. This would probably break Jack’s trust in him forever. They likely wouldn’t speak for a long time. He would find out eventually, anyways. The Irishman had sharp eyes and a VERY quick temper. The last time he’d gotten a chemical burn and hadn’t told Jack, the Irishman spotted it while they were playing video games and yelled at him for an entire hour for trying to hide it.

Two. He could try to make a run for it out of the apartment. The guy was small, but he was WAY faster than Mark. He’d tackle the guy to the floor in a heartbeat, and inevitably come into contact with the bigger man’s new appendages. He’d be found out instantly. See option one.

Three. He could jump out the window. That was possibly the most cowardly thing Mark could ever do. He’d leave his friends and family terrified and heartbroken, never knowing what they did wrong. Plus, the autopsy would immediately unveil his secret and plaster it all over the newspapers.

Four. He could tell the truth.

Mark swallowed. He had no idea what was going to ensue. Probably the same scenario as option one. Heck, they all ended up like that, didn’t they? Even if he followed option three, he was only delaying the inevitable. As soon as Jack lived to a good old age and went to wherever Mark was (provided nothing horrible happened. He shuddered at the thought), his ear would be nagged off for eternity. There was no escaping the wrath of the Irish.

He let out a loud sigh.

\---

“Jack?” Mark called. He hadn’t been paying attention to the house during his little stress session. For all he knew, Jack had left the apartment and taken a bus to the nearest bar.

The moment of silence felt like an eternity. Every second that passed was agonizing. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife, if you sawed really hard.

“Yeah.”

Well, he was home. That was good. Mark held the blanket tighter around him.

"I… I need to talk to you.” 

Another painfully long silence. Then there was a shuffling noise, like dragging footsteps.

“What is it?”

Mark took a deep breath and unlocked the door. God, why did everything have to be so slow? He was getting more and more nervous every second.

After a few seconds, Jack pushed the door open. He looked almost as worried as Mark felt.

“H-here, come in,” Mark stammered, stepping back. His roommate hesitated, then crossed the threshold. His blue eyes never left Mark’s brown ones.

The intense eye contact unnerved the American even further. He considered bailing out. No. This had to happen, here and now.

“I h-haven’t been perfectly honest with you…”

“Ya don’t say?”

The sharp, accented words cut deep. Mark’s breath hitched for a moment in his throat. 

“Look… J-Jack, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. I p-promise…”

“You can make it up ta me by tellin’ me wot th’ fock is goin’ on!” he exploded. All of a sudden, Jack was absolutely furious. “Mark, I’m WORRIED about ya! Yer shuttin’ me out, yer scared’f me alluvasudden! Wot’s EATING you?! I promise I won’t bite, jus’ fockin’ TELL me already, would ya!”

Tears brimmed dangerously in Mark’s eyes. It was getting hard to breathe. Jack was upset… FOR him? Not AT him?

“Why d’ya feel th’ need ta hide shit from me?” Jack asked him. His voice shook. The volume had dropped all at once. He was practically whispering. “Please tell me wot’s wrong, Mark. I’m here ta help ya. O-okay?”

The smaller man sniffled. Mark felt like his heart was being torn in two.

“O...o-okay,” he finally stammered. “I’ll show you.”

Jack paused in confusion. “...show me?” he asked slowly.

Mark nodded and then finally let go of his comforter. It dropped to the floor.

The Irishman stared at his bare chest. “Uh… I don’t think I can see wot yer tryin’ ta say, Mark. Unless yer comin’ onta me or somethi-”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Jack,” Mark groaned. Jack’s eyes snapped to his face. Then they traveled a little higher.

“...Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” he mumbled. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he hit the carpet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAN DOWN! MAN DOWN!  
> Nope, you still aren't getting a reveal yet. HA HA HA.


	5. Uprising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark shares his secret with Jack.

Good fucking Lord, he felt like somebody had smacked him with a frying pan. Jack let out a groan as he returned to consciousness.

The first thing he registered was the rough carpet. Had he passed out drunk? No, this wasn't a hangover headache. The Irishman drank enough to know the difference.

He searched his memories, trying his hardest to remember. Mark. Mark was telling him something. Mark had locked him out, Mark had let him back in, Mark had tossed off the blanket and-

Holy SHIT. 

Jack sat bolt upright, looking wildly about the room. “Mark!” he yelped dazedly. “Wh-what--!”

There he was, sitting on the bed. His shirt was back on, and his blanket was once again draped over him. The man sniffled a couple of times, and Jack could spot his reddened eyes. He'd been crying.

“Jack… I'm sorry,” he mumbled. “I don't know what to do about this. I'm… I'm scared.”

The smaller man pulled himself to his feet. “It's… I-It’s okay, Mark. I probably would be feelin’ th’ same way you are in this sort’a situation.”

Mark chuckled a bit. “Are you kidding? You'd be prancing around like a leprechaun, flaunting them for everyone to see!”

Jack laughed. “You racist piece of shit! If anythin’, I expected YOU ta be th’ one prancin’ around!”

Mark burst into giggles as Jack sat down beside him. “See, ya'd be dressed in all pink like a fairy princess. No, no. Pastel blue, ta match yer hair!”

The two men roared with laughter for at least two minutes straight at the image Jack had created. Finally, Mark wiped away tears of mirth.

“As hilarious as that would be… I can't just do that, Jack. These aren't normal. We have to get rid of them somehow.”

The Irishman grew indignant. “Why though?! Are ya kiddin’? Think of all the stuff you could do with those!”

“Yeah, and I'd be chopped up by government scientists as soon as someone saw me!” his roommate moaned. “They have to go before someone notices. They don't exactly lay flat against my back!”

“Git a binder,” Jack suggested. “Or wear really large hoodies all th’ time.”

“Hoodies aren't exactly work-appropriate for an engineer, Jackaboy.”

"Well, tha’s just bullshit. Hoodies are appropriate fer anythin’ and everythin’.”

“What about weddings, huh?”

“Please, Mark,” Jack scoffed, rolling his eyes. “If I had th’ choice, I'd walk down th’ aisle in a hoodie any day. Hell, I would do it even if I didn't have a choice. Fock th’ system!”

They chuckled again for a little bit. But once the laughter died, they lapsed into a rather uncomfortable silence.

Finally, Jack filled the void. “...can I see them?”

“Wh-what?” Mark spluttered, instantly turning red. “You already did!”

“I didn't git a good look at ‘em! I passed out, remember?”

“Yeah, like a lady in an old 50s flick.”

“Oy, shut up!”

His roommate giggled. “I just pictured you in a ridiculous frilly dress, with a big floppy hat and one of those parasols.”

“Oho, fantasizin’ about me, are ya, Markimoo? Like wot ya see?”

Mark shoved him away, laughing even harder. Jack snickered.

“...seriously. I wanna take a good look at ‘em.”

He hesitated, searching Jack's face, then relented. Mark reached up to pull off his shirt, wincing as it caught on the appendages on his back.

Jack reached up and helped him free himself from his prison. The awkward lumps took on a far more breathtaking shape. He stared in awe.

“...c-can ya move ‘em?”

Mark blinked in surprise, then shrugged. They spread out a little more, allowing the Irishman a better look.

“Holy shit,” Jack breathed. “Mark, these are AMAZING. Why would ya wanna git rid of ‘em? Can I…?” He reached out a bit.

His roommate was nothing short of confused. He nodded, and the smaller man began to run his fingers across them. Mark relaxed.

“...you need to try them out. Tonight.”

His eyes snapped open, and he looked to Jack in surprise. "Wh... what?"

“You heard me,” Jack told him earnestly, stroking his wings. “You have to try them out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE MOTHERFUCKERS  
> ...yeah, that wasn't much of a surprise was it  
> i'm so bad at this  
> i am very sorry  
> ...  
> ..........  
> WHO GUESSED IT BEFORE IT HAPPENED EH


	6. Starlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark and Jack sneak out to try something.

“Jack. I am an engineer. I know my shit. There is no possible fucking way this could ever work.”

Jack shoved Mark earnestly. “Come on, man, we've made it this far!”

“Seriously!” Mark knew he was just trying to get out of this, but his logical processes were bringing up some valid points. “I'm too heavy. I'd never get off the ground. Birds have air sacs, and hollow bones, and super high metabolisms. Humans do not.”

“Come on. All ya need is to believe!”

“This isn't Peter Pan, Jack!” Mark complained, leaning against a tree. They'd left the apartment at one in the morning when Jack shook him awake from slumber. Now they were sitting in the middle of a park. God, he was tired. Didn't stop him from being pissed at his roommate. 

“Besides, even if I did get off the ground, which I WON'T, it's practically pitch black out here. I'd smack into something and break my neck!”

“Come on, Mark,” Jack groaned. He grabbed his roommate's hand, causing Mark to flush in surprise. “Have a little faith, would ya?”

“...fine,” he muttered, relenting. From what he could see of the Irishman, he was smiling hugely.

“Great! Okay, let's test it out. Take off yer jacket.”

Thank God it was summer. Mark pulled off his windbreaker, and Jack reached for his shirt. They'd cut holes in it earlier, much to the older man's dismay, but it allowed Mark at least some dignity. He twitched slightly as the Irishman brushed his fingers against his feathers. With his roommate's help, they worked the wings through the holes they'd cut.

“Alright then,” the Irishman said cheerily. He stepped back and sat down against a tree. “Th’ floor’s yers.”

Mark gulped. He closed his eyes. He didn't want to do this. But Jack would definitely complain if he didn't.

It was as easy as stretching out his arms. His wings unfurled, feathers rustling in the slight breeze. He opened them as far as they would go, and was surprised at their span. They must have been at least fifteen feet across.

He heard a surprised gasp from Jack. “Holy shit!” 

Mark laughed. “Like what you see?”

“Dude! You hafta try flyin’ with ‘em. Please! Fer me??”

He groaned. “Alright. Just keep in mind, this is literally physically impossible.” He raised his wings, preparing himself to downstroke as hard as he could. “I'll bet you ten bucks that this doesn’t-”

There was a loud FWAP, then a blast of air. Then a whole lot of screaming.

\---

Holy fucking shit.

Mark shot into the air like a bullet fired from a gun, and he let out a startled shriek. He tried to look around. Amazingly, his glasses had stayed on his face. His eyes watered from the wind blasting into his face. The park was getting smaller and smaller, and Los Angeles began to stretch out before him. 

All this from one fucking flap?!

He struggled to turn, to stop, to do SOMETHING. As soon as he moved his wings, his upward arc turned into an uncontrolled spiral. Oh God, he was going to be sick.

Everything was weightless for a moment, and Mark paused. He almost couldn't breathe. LA glittered below him. He could see for half a mile in all sorts of directions. If he had to guess, he was maybe three hundred feet in the air.

Then his stomach bottomed out, and he began to fall.

“OoooohhHHH SHIIIIIIT!!” he cried, frantically trying to turn his freefall into some sort of glide. Mark spun out of control again.

So this is how it ended. And it was all Jack's fault.

Mark opened his wings to their full capacity. Air ballooned under them, and all of a sudden his descent slowed. He leveled out, drifting slowly downwards. He was maybe fifty feet in the air now, headed back towards the park.

Mark heard Jack calling to him. He tried to turn. Mistake.

He lost control of the fall once more, slicing sideways through the air. Mark ended up facing the sky as he slammed into the pond.

Water and slime went everywhere. He spluttered and pulled himself up. Thankfully, the pond was only about chest deep. But now he was cold and wet and covered in muck.

Quick footsteps told him Jack had arrived. “Holy SHIT man!” he crowed. “That was fockin’ AMAZIN’!”

Mark groaned. “Are you kidding? I was terrible up there! I had no idea what I was doing!”

“Ye jus’ need practice,” his roommate asserted. “Come on, we'll try again once we git this shit off ya.”

A distant voice made them both freeze, however. Someone was calling out.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” A light shone through the trees, searching the surrounding area.

“Shit, it's the cops!” Mark hissed. “You moron, I knew this would happen!”

“Shut th’ fock up and run already!” 

Jack's hand wrapped around Mark's wrist, and with surprising strength, he yanked the larger man out of the water. The two broke into a run, and the sound of crashing foliage behind them told them they were being pursued.

Adrenaline fueled every step. They smashed their way through the trees and out of the park. Thankfully, the sidewalks and streets were mostly empty, save a few stray bums snoring on corners.

Jack didn't let go of Mark until they'd burst into the lobby of their apartment building. Panting, he turned to his roommate.

“That wos AMAZIN’! We need ta do that again sometime!”

“Are you kidding?! We almost got caught!”

“...uh, excuse me.” They turned around to see a very surprised-looking man with a scraggly brown beard behind the counter, staring at the two of them. “What…?”

“Uh…” Mark was painfully aware of the state he and Jack were in, not to mention his wings. He frantically attempted to think of an excuse. “Cosplay get-together. Anime shit.”

“Sorry fer messin’ up th’ lobby, Ken,” Jack told him sheepishly. “We'll git outta yer way.”

Ken nodded vaguely, returning to his novel. “Right. See you two.”

Mark breathed a sigh of relief as Jack pulled him into the elevator. “That was too close for comfort,” he moaned as the doors closed.

“...hey Mark?”

“Yeah?”

“Ya owe me ten bucks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go. Hope you enjoyed this fic. Don't worry that there's no actual romanticalness between the two doofs we know and love. This is going to be a series. There will be plenty of time for that~
> 
> Fun Fact: The titles of all the chapters share names with songs by Muse. It is a good band. Please listen to them. Or don't. It's up to you.


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